Thermodynamics
by karebear
Summary: "Do you even remember that night before Ilos?" Of course she does. That and every other spark of heat and energy that's ever connected the two of them. Explores the relationship of Kaidan and Shepard through Mass Effect 1 & 2.
1. Fraternization

Title: Thermodynamics  
Author: karebear  
Rating: M  
Characters: Shepard (female), Kaidan  
Standard Disclaimer (Mass Effect): I know, I know: I'm so late to Mass Effect! I just finally got Windows installed on my Mac. Not suprisingly, Bioware's done it again and got me all caught up in their world.  
Summary/Notes: The first of what will become a collection of Kaidan/femShep one-shots (probably out of order). In this installment: Kaidan sleeps. Shepard makes coffee. The stolen Normandy moves closer to Ilos. A more detailed picture of "that night that meant everything." AKA "The best part of waking up is Alenko in your cup." ;)

* * *

"Commander, I... are you alright?"

It takes a long time to lift her head and meet Kaidan's serious gaze. Her eyes flicker toward his for half a second before she returns to her original, barely comfortable position: head down on the smooth plastic desk that holds her personal terminal, open to screens full of messages she won't read.

"No," she mumbles.

That much is obvious. She doesn't even ask him what he's doing here, in her private quarters. Some part of her has been waiting for him, for longer than she wants to admit.

It shouldn't be possible to feel the warmth of his gentle touch on her shoulder through the thick weave of her jumpsuit, yet she does. And she hears the concern in his cautious whisper, barely more than a slight rumble in the air: "Shepard?"

"What?" she snaps, shoving him away from her, a slight physical motion reinforced with a biotic push. The blue-white light of her power is blinding, but through it she can still see the startled hurt on Kaidan's face. She bites her lip as the field flares out. "Sorry," she says softly. "I didn't mean..."

"S'alright." He slips into the chair stuffed into the corner of the room, almost touching the one she's in. Commander's quarters or not, the room isn't that big. His body seems too large to fit comfortably, though she knows that's ridiculous; the Normandy, even this room, is built to accommodate marines in full kit. Maybe it's the fact that he won't settle, he perches on the edge of his seat, his arm stretched out, hand reaching for hers, though not touching.

It's how it is, with the two of them, pulled so close but never able to actually connect. "It's not your fault, you know," Kaidan says, to the blinking lights on the computer screen.

A small smile creeps onto Shepard's face as she draws her knees up close to her chest; the chair is more than large enough to hold her curled-up form. There he goes again, talking to her but not talking to her. "You're gonna have to be more specific," she whispers. There are so many things that have gone wrong lately, her fault but not her fault. The fact that she has just committed mutiny is probably the most pressing, but it doesn't weigh on her conscience the way abandoning Ashley Williams on Virmire does. "She _knew_," she insists, her voice breaking only slightly. Her relationship with the woman hadn't even been what she would call friendly; they worked together, that's all. But still, she's commander, she should've... it hadn't even been a choice. Leaving Kaidan behind was never an option, it hadn't even flickered through her mind, not for a second. "She knew before I did. That she wouldn't make it back. And she knew _why_."

"Commander -"

"Shut it, Alenko! There's nothing you can say."

Kaiden nods, and to his credit, he does follow her order, staying silent. She hears nothing but the sound of their soft breathing, barely audible over the quiet rumble of the engines propelling them through the darkness of open space. Surrounded by nothing, racing from death toward inevitable destruction.

The echoes of Ashley Williams' last screams burned out by white static through cut comms tears through her mind, underneath the flashes of horror "gifted" to her by the Prothean beacon and the alien Cipher. Liara had told her that any other human would likely have been killed by such a complex mental assault. Lucky her. She just carries it all locked in her head, and keeps running, the same as she always has.

Kaidan's fingers gently brush over hers, and she looks up again, into those brown eyes darkened by worry. She's not the only one not sleeping. "Headaches bothering you again, Lieutenant?"

"I - what?" She smiles at the confusion etched into his features. It's not easy to get Kaidan to stop short in a conversation. He babbles, talking just to hear his own voice, she's fairly certain.

"Why aren't you sleeping, Kaidan?" she asks simply. "Everyone else is."

He clears his throat softly, and squirms under her piercing gaze like a little kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. It's adorable and infuriating all at once. "I was worried about you, Shepard," he finally admits. "I mean, Commander. I should... go."

She grabs his hand and holds it tight, pulling him closer to her. "We're beyond that, aren't we?" she asks, with quiet force. "_Please_," she whispers, so softly the word barely passes her lips.

And before she knows it, his lips are there, over hers. His tongue presses at her mouth, and she shivers as he gathers her in his arms. "Stay," she insists, when he comes up for air, and he nods, his fingers tangling in her hair.

Her heart beats in time with his. "There are regs against fraternization, you know," he whispers.

"Screw the regs."

Kaidan laughs, and her heart beat speeds up. It's not something she hears nearly enough, and she can't get enough of it.

"Why am I not surprised to hear you say that?" he teases, as she pulls at his clothes, desperate for contact, the taste of him, like salt and electricity. His fingers creep underneath the hem of her shirt, tracing the sensitive flesh of her stomach with sparks of static, she can feel the surge of energy stirring within him. She lets him pull her shirt off, one smooth motion, and her bare skin prickles with goosebumps, the warmth of his touch only highlighting the chill of the room. "Please tell me the regs aren't the only thing you'll be screwing."

"Shut up and kiss me," she orders, yanking his mouth toward hers. She bites his lower lip and finally manages to undo his belt.

He guides her gently onto the bed, where the coverings are still carefully tucked in the way she'd been taught all those years ago in Basic. She fumbles at them for a few seconds until Kaidan stops her, his fingers locking with hers as he thrusts into her. She rolls over, riding him, moaning with primal pleasure. His fingers trace over her breast, and she nuzzles against his neck. His arm is a solid, comfortable weight around her. Her breathing grows heavier as she continues to grind against him, faster and more desperately, as he pushes in deeper. Her fingers tangle in his sweat-soaked shirt, clinging close to his skin. His panting and moaning in her ear lights a new fire within her as he finishes, and she struggles to catch her breath, rolling off of him and listening to the thundering beat of his heart and the rush of ecstasy. She lays her head on his bare chest and closes her eyes, letting him gently unknot the tangled mess of her hair. The rise and fall of his breathing feels like gentle waves.

He falls asleep first, snoring softly, and she grins at the thought of teasing him about that later. She stays awake, content, staring at the ceiling and thinking about nothing in particular, for the first time in... _ever_, that she can remember. After what seems like a very long time and no time at all, she slips out of Kaidan's arms, intending to cross the few short steps to her bathroom. But she stops short when Kaidan reaches out for her, although he doesn't wake up. She plants a gentle kiss on his forward, and her heart speeds up again as she does so. She's postive she's never done that before. Kissing a man while he's sleeping... hoping he doesn't wake up because she wants to keep the action secret. She has no idea what to do with these feelings she has for him. Far more than physical attraction, he makes her feel safe. She has no idea what love is, but maybe this is it. The thought of losing him ignites a panic within her worse than any fear for any other person she can remember feeling. She'd figured that part of her - the part that gets _attached_ - had died a hell of a long time ago, whatever fragmentary bits of it that had survived Mindoir ground to dust in a rather spectacular fashion on Akuze.

The people in psych had had a field day with her. She's never felt the need to go digging into the pages and pages of evaluations in her file, but she knows it's filled with words like "shock" and "post-traumatic stress" and "burnout." She ignores it all and gets the job done. The N7 designation on her uniform isn't just for show.

She shakes her head and disappears into the shower, staying just long enough to let the recycled water wash the sweat from her body and finish waking her up. She slips back into her jumpsuit and returns to her desk, closing the terminal and shoving it out of the way so she can sit and watch Kaidan sleep. She studies every detail of him: the curve of his muscles, the color of his eyelashes. He is marked by the scattered scars of combat that come with life in the military. He shifts slightly, squeezing the pillow under his head just a bit tighter as he moans and exhales. His eyes move rapidly under the lids: dreaming. Good dreams, she hopes. Those are few and far between, for both of them. She's not the only one who keeps the pay coming for the psych team.

She's amazed at his ability to talk about his past so easily while simultaneously pretending it doesn't matter. It's like he thinks he's not allowed to be angry. Anger's about the only thing that keeps her functional, most days, and to hell with anyone who thinks that's a bad thing. Kaidan tries to "move beyond" his feelings, but he sucks at it. She can read his anxieties and desires and she's seen what he does with his biotics in a fight. He's _scary_, when he gets pissed off enough to forget he's supposed to hold back, but she loves him most when he goes all out. He _glows_, in those moments, and the rush of energy as his barriers slam up to shield her mix with the kicking recoil of her gun. She's not exactly helpless herself; more than one unprepared enemy has learned the hard way not to mess with the fragile-looking human who lashes out with a mental attack when they think they've got her cornered. But next to Kaidan Alenko, she feels like a child, just learning to walk.

Kaidan's snoring and the ever-present rumble of the Normandy's engines, pulsing like a lullaby, pulls her down into a contented kind of restfulness, better than any of the snatched bits of sleep she'd been able to grab since Virmire. She palms the button on the small coffeemaker she'd installed on her desk so that she wouldn't have to go down to the mess just to get some caffeine. As the pot finishes brewing, Kaidan stirs, blinking his eyes open. They lock onto hers, and she squirms, flashing him a smile and trying to pretend she doesn't feel like an awkward teenager. They're both too old to feel guilty about this, surely?

"Hey," Kaidan greets her, and she snorts. Straight to the point, maybe for the first time since he'd been assigned to the Normandy.

"Hey yourself. Coffee?" He nods, and she pours it as he pulls on his clothes. The brew is comfortingly terrible in the way only Alliance Navy mud-in-a-mug can be. They both drink it black, of course. She hands him the steaming mug and he manages to keep it from spilling while pulling her into her arms and brushing her lips with his. She sets her coffee down on the desk, because she's not that good yet, and lets him be the one to warm her up. His strong hand rests on the small of her back, and the electric heat of his touch ignites her with the kind of energy that will only make the caffeine buzz look sad by comparison. She pushes herself closer to him, and his breath teases at her ear, soft wind and sparks of static blow through the strands of loose hair that have slipped out of her hastily tied ponytail.

"Five minutes out from the relay," the static says in Joker's voice.

Shepard groans, and Kaidan gives her one more kiss before downing his coffee in one shot, choking on the burn. "Back to work, Commander."

She nods, grabbing her coffee mug and sipping it slowly, deliberately taking her time getting to the bridge. "Only if you're with me, Alenko."

He grabs her hand, and she keeps her fingers tangled in his. "Always," he says, and the _certainty_ she hears in his voice sends another shiver of pleasant warmth through her, igniting at the point where their bare skin touches.

Screw the regs.


	2. PCS

**Chapter Summary/Notes:** I told you I was going out of order. In this installment, we go almost back to the beginning. Eden Prime: Commander Shepard loses a lot, and gains a lot more.

Chapter Title: PCS stands for "Permanent Change of Station," the term used on military orders when someone is assigned to a new base. A PCS is rarely actually permanent, it usually lasts from one to three or four years. But you get to take your family with you, so the new location becomes your "home." PCS can be used as both a noun and a verb (as in "I am PCS-ing to [insert location here]").

* * *

"Doctor? Doctor Chakwas. I think she's waking up."

Shepard blinks back tears as she sits up, willing the pounding in her skull to quiet.

"You had us worried there, Shepard," the doctor says, smoothly enough that Shepard immediately understands that they weren't _too_ worried. That's good. It makes her feel a little better, more confident. Even though her head is _killing_ her, and she can't remember much of anything.

"How are you feeling?" Chakwas asks.

"Like the morning after shore leave," she answers, honestly, and she can hear Alenko's quiet chuckle. She glances his way, and the angry glare she shoots him is enough that he bites his lip and avoids meeting her eyes. She turns back to the doctor. "How long was I out?"

"About 15 hours. Something happened down there, with the beacon, I think."

Memories come rushing back, all flashing colors and light. The pain in her head spikes, and she clenches her hand into a fist, squeezes her eyes shut, counts to ten, a quick repetition that eventually slows, along with her breathing. Her stomach heaves and she barely manages to swallow. She's still XO. Vomiting in front of her crew is something she'd truly like to avoid. She feels fingers around her wrist, the light pressure of a gentle touch, and she opens her eyes again, ready to shake the doctor off.

But as her focus crystallizes, she recognizes _Kaidan_ holding her hand. 15 _hours_. She frowns. Was he here the whole time?

"I'm alright," she insists.

He nods, but doesn't let go, and she notices the worried glance he throws toward the doctor. "I'm _fine_, both of you!" she snaps. She even manages to stand up, to prove it. And it's about the time she miscalculates a step and nearly falls into Alenko's arms that Captain Anderson steps in, the door to the infirmary sliding shut behind him with a pneumatic hiss.

The look he gives her is enough to make her scramble out of Kaidan's grasp, grateful for Chakwas taking the hint and distracting the Captain with a fairly complex sounding medical report.

All those long words make it sound like she's not 'fine' at all. But Captain Anderson seems to trust the doctor. Even Kaidan seems to relax.

And Anderson, as always, softens a bit as he studies her. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asks softly. She shrugs, and tells him she'll survive. It's what she does, after all.

But the nightmarish visions burned into her brain still scream. And then there's Jenkins, a good kid, who'd gotten to come home only to die there. The Council Spectre's dead too. But she's alright. She tosses a glance at Alenko, who had carried her unconscious body across miles of enemy terrain back to the ship. She's glad she'd gotten to wake up at home.

She blinks, startled by the realization. The Normandy isn't supposed to feel like _home_. It didn't before. It's just a ship. A good one, but life in the Alliance Navy is a life of picking up and moving. It suits her. When everybody measures their lives in tours and leaves, it's not such a big deal that she doesn't have a family to go home to. But waking up to familiar voices, with Lieutenant Alenko holding her, a rock-solid presence when the whole world is falling apart... it _matters_. Even Captain Anderson's preoccupied worry is a comfort. These people, this ship... they're worth holding onto. They may be floating through open space, but they cling to each other.

"Marines stick together," Kaidan reminds her, and she nods in agreement, even though in her experience it's not necessarily true.

The thing is, most people know her name. Everybody's heard about Akuze, how she's the only known survivor. People tend to look at her as though she's special somehow, some kind of hero instead of just damned lucky, which is what she is. Damned and lucky.

The people who don't treat her like some kind of celebrity are the ones who whisper accusations behind her back, sure that she's guilty of some kind of foul play, that she'd somehow set up Akuze and maybe even Mindoir, climbing up the Alliance ladder on the bodies of her dead family. Those are the ones who have gotten her locked in the brig, more than once. She sat out the sentences for assault and insubordination and 'conduct unbecoming of an officer' and every other damned thing they could think to hit her with, standing up to the Alliance brass without apology. Most people told her she was lucky not to get booted out of the Marines. She shrugged them off and admitted that she wouldn't care if she was.

After a while, most of them learned not to fuck with her, but every now and then some anti-biotic screamer will bring it up again. It doesn't seem to matter how many times she insists she'd gladly trade her Navy-issue L3 implants to be able to turn back time; turn her ship around before it landed on Akuze, warn the people of Mindoir's colony before her childhood was reduced to nothing more than a smoking crater.

Most people who know the story look at her with thinly disguised pity, although she knows full well she's not the only orphan turned military brat, and she probably would have made a really crappy farmer anyway. Even Captain Anderson still treats her like a little girl who needs protecting. She lets him, mostly, because he'd taken her under his wing back when that's what she was.

He tells her to meet up with Joker on the bridge. She tries another few cautious steps, her head still ringing, but she manages to make it through the familiar corridors without tripping over her own two feet. Thankfully. The looks people are shooting her way are bad enough.

There's only one person who's not looking at her as though he wants something. "I'm glad you're okay, Commander," Kaiden Alenko says simply, in the quiet of a little-used nook near the mess. His fingers brush over hers again, and she's struck by the sincerity in his tone.

"You really stayed with me, that whole time?"

"Most of it, yeah," he admits, looking a little sheepish.

_"Why?"_

He shrugs, and attempts to avoid her gaze. "I guess I just... didn't want to lose you."

That last bit is said so softly she almost doesn't hear it, yet she can _feel_ how strongly he means it. She studies him again, impressed. Has he _always_ felt this way about her? She's heard the gossip about the Lieutenant after all, and she'd be lying if she said she hadn't ever snuck a peek. He does look damned good, after all, muscles toned from years of training, dark hair, deep brown eyes. He wouldn't look out of place on a recruitment poster, and the tight-fitting jumpsuits they wear only highlight it.

But more than that, he cares about _her_. Not Commander Shepard, the war hero on a pedestal, but the woman knocked out by a hellacious mental assault. Headaches are something he understands. A human mind pushed beyond its limits.

They say whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger. But that doesn't mean the process is a smooth one.

"Here," Kaidan grunts, shoving a canteen into her hand. She takes it, grateful for the chill of the water even if it does taste like metal and purification chemicals.

"How're you holding up?" she asks him, after another long swallow. He shrugs, and she recognizes the deflection. He's shaken up, same as she is. And he'll push on, just like her.

"I'm gonna need you on the Citadel, Alenko," she reminds him, knowing that having a job to do helps her. It matters, when people are counting on you to move forward. It makes it easier to move beyond the memories that try to pull you down.

Kaidan flashes her a grateful smile, and nods.

"Sure thing, Commander. You can count on me."


	3. Reparations Denied

**Chapter Notes:** le sigh. These one-shots appear to be getting shorter and shorter. I don't know _why_. These two are being frustratingly uncooperative in my attempts to pin down what their relationship looks like!

Timeframe: Immediately after the UNC: Hostage sidequest. It ended poorly (Chairman Burns does not survive). More big-picture: about halfway through the ME1 story, somewhere close to the midpoint between Eden Prime and Ilos.

* * *

She finds him pacing around the crew deck, jumpy and irritated. Lieutenant Alenko is fiddling with at one of the access panels strewn about the ship, though Shepard knows full well that repair work is not his job. She crosses her arms over her chest and leans back against the bulkhead, just watching for a few longish moments before clearing her throat. "You know the guys in Engineering tend to get possessive of the wires and... stuff," she flails a hand toward the omnitool he's holding. Despite the required courses in the Academy, knowing how the ship works is most definitely not her expertise. It's enough that it works, and she trusts her team for that. "I'd hate to let it come to a fight."

Kaidan slams the hatch shut and throws her a brisk salute. "Commander!"

She sighs. "Are we still at that? You've saved my ass more than once, patched me up when I was riddled with bullet holes, and..." she flashes him a teasing smile. "Seen me naked."

Allenko's face turns bright red, and Shepard is torn between laughing her ass off and feeling bad, as he nearly chokes trying to stammer out some kind of protest. "Commander, I... it wasn't... you were _injured_."

"Relax, Lieutenant. Just trying to ease the tension."

"Thought that was Joker's job."

Shepard raises an eyebrow. Lieutenant Alenko is somewhat known for finding excuses not to talk to anyone, and most especially her. Yet here he is returning quick-witted banter. "Maybe he needs an assist. Lately it seems like there's a lot of tension."

Kaidan frowns. "You're talking about the Chairman's death."

"Do you... want to talk about it?" she asks hesitantly, floating the idea.

"Jump Zero?"

She shrugs. She'd seen the way he'd acted on the mission... shooting to incapacitate rather than kill, pulling his punches... "I need to know I can trust you, Alenko. Hesitation is death."

"So we are back to 'Commander' now, are we?"

"Dammit, Kaidan! I don't know where we are!"

He takes her hand, his callused palm rough against her fingers. A gentle touch, but she can _feel_ it, like buzzing wires under her skin. His other hand reaches up to cradle her cheek, his finger looping behind her ear.

"You're asking if I'm on their side?" he asks softly.

"Are you?"

"They're _terrorists_. Commander." He is still _close_ to her, but his tone and the speed with which he pulls his hand away tells her everything she needs to know. Her body tingles, cold now that he's let go.

"But do you think they're wrong?" She asks desperately, aching for his touch.

She wants him to know it's _okay_ to tell Command to shove it every once in a while, it's okay to break the rules. She is so sick of this game between them, sick of pretending and sick of _wanting_ and sick of being alone.

And she is still coming down from the rushing high of the fight, the echoes of gunshots ringing in her ears, the thump of the Chairman's body hitting the deck, the static hiss of radio feeds, conflicting messages from her team and theirs. And the familiar desperate damage of people who have nothing left to lose and only scream loudly enough to be heard. They're _terrorists_, yes. But they're people, too. Broken toys cast aside when they outlived their usefulness. 'It's not easy being an L2,' Doctor Chakwas had told her. Kaidan's one of the lucky ones, suffering nothing worse than crippling migraines and guilt.

"Kaidan, nobody deserves the pain they put you through. _You_ don't deserve it. I hope you know that."

He just shrugs, wiping his hand across his face. "You didn't deserve what happened to you either, Shepard. Sometimes the galaxy's just a shitty place. Dwelling on the past doesn't help anybody. You can't change it."

"You can't forget it, either," she demands.

It's the closest she'll come to admitting out loud how haunted she is by the nightmares, only worse since the Prothean beacon added its litany of destruction; the eradication of an entire species, erased from the galaxy, wiped from all memory. Except for hers.

But somehow Kaidan knows that the alien visions she barely comprehends aren't what paralyzes her. Probably because when she asks _him_ how he's feeling, what he gives her is a story about the Turian bastard he killed accidentally-on-purpose, when he was seventeen.

He holds her gaze, his brown eyes unblinking. He doesn't agree with her rebuttal, but he doesn't deny it either. He _understands_ it. "Do _you_ want to talk about Mindoir?" he asks her pointedly.

Smoke and rubble. Blood and bones. The first time she'd held a rifle with the intent of killing anything more dangerous than a deer, and the first time she'd thrown up a biotic barrier to save her life.

"Hell no," Shepard snaps. She doesn't talk about Mindoir. Not to anyone, not ever. _Those_ parts of her psych eval are page after page of empty white, filled in by doctors making their own judgements on her damage. Hostile. Aggressive. Easy to push. But unbreakable. Even when she wishes she could break. "I don't want to _talk_ anymore," she demands, but it sounds like a petulant whine even to her own ears.

Fine. She's been fighting for every minute of survival since she was sixteen, and life on a fringe colony world wasn't exactly _easy_ before that. As evidenced by the token Alliance garrison that completely failed to protect her family or anyone else.

The buildup of pressure surges inside her, the pulses of energy vibrate under her skull, rattling through her sinuses. She flexes her fingers into a tight fist, curls and uncurls them, and breathes, slow and steady. The calming techniques don't work any better now than they had when they'd taught her in boot camp, pushing her hard because her mind is a weapon, and one that can backfire far more easily than a gun. Not like Jump Zero, but bad enough. Her implants are "safe," more predictable than Kaidan's, but she still spikes high when she's stressed or emotionally volatile. That's just being human: powered by adrenaline and emotion and thinking with everything except their brains. She reaches out for Kaidan, but he pushes her hand away. A gentle rejection, but a clear rejection nevertheless.

"There are regs," he reminds her.

"I don't _care_!"

"I do," he says quietly, and she wonders if she's imagining the disappointment in his voice.


	4. Equalizing Interior Pressure

**Chapter Notes:** The good thing about going out of order. After the uncertainty and angst of the last installment, I felt the need to write just pure catharsis, sexual healing.

Timeframe: Mass Effect endgame, some days into the aftermath of the final fight for the Citadel.

* * *

The Normandy is quiet. Shepard refuses to turn on the lights in her quarters. She's sick of light and sound and buzzing wires, constant demands. She just needs a minute to catch her breath. A minute to finally be able to realize that she actually is still alive.

Of course, then the hatch slides open, a slight hiss coming just before the bright 'ping' of the computer, and the artificially soothing voice of the VI announcing Lieutenant Alenko's arrival. He might be the only one who could make such an entrance without finding himself the unfortunate target of a biotic throw. Her head pounds at just the thought, though. Who is she kidding? Between simple exhaustion and the heavy dose of meds still in her system, she won't be up for moving anything larger than a coffee cup for a while.

"You're not usually one to hide, Commander," Kaidan comments.

She reaches for him, and he hesitates for only the briefest moment before nodding, as the hatch seals shut behind him, leaving them to their privacy. Not that everyone on the Normandy isn't already perfectly aware of the breach of protocol taking place.

"I'm not hiding," Shepard insists stubbornly, although actually she's doing exactly that, avoiding everyone out there who is expecting her to act like some kind of hero now. Even Captain Anderson is trying to use her as leverage, insisting that she alone can make the annihilation of the Council work for humanity without turning the whole of the galaxy against them. As though she hasn't already done enough.

"I wouldn't blame you if you were, you know."

Kaidan sits next to her on the bed, leaning against the bulkhead as he wraps his arm around her. The mattress sinks comfortably under his added weight. Shepard settles into place, tucking her body close against his, trusting him. He flicks his fingertips at the edge of her sleeveless undershirt, the thin fabric doing nothing to hide the still-healing wounds acquired in the fight to save the Citadel, most of them still covered by tightly wrapped bandages.

"Are you okay, Shepard?" he whispers.

She snorts, and it's impossible to tell if she's laughing or crying. "I won't _break_," she insists.

Kaidan nods, but his gentle fingers move in practiced trails along her tender skin. Both of them are painted with bruises. N7 armor is good, but there's no getting through the kind of fight they've just been through without it showing. It's a miracle they survived, and they both know it.

She struggles to breathe as she remembers Kaidan screaming her name as the rubble collapsed all around them. Choking on the dust, crushed under the twisted wreckage... too much like Mindoir, like Akuze... her heart pounds in her chest and tears sting her eyes. He'd reached out for her, but the force of the impact as the Citadel shattered with Sovereign's dying spasms had pulled him out of her grasp. She'd been alone with only a flickering shield and the rhythmic pulse of her helmet's breathing filter, echoes and flashbacks keeping her eyes open as she struggled hopelessly against the heavy darkness.

"Shepard..." Kaidan groans, as she claws at him, fighting.

He holds her until she stills, collapsing against his chest. "I'm okay," she insists, but her voice is barely louder than a whisper, and it sounds like a lie. "I'm okay," she repeats.

"Okay," Kaidan murmurs. He hugs her close and tangles his fingers through her hair.

His skin is warm against hers. She focuses on his heartbeat, she can feel it pushing back against her touch when she drags her fingers along the curve of his neck. He shivers slightly, and she smiles, licking her lips as she remembers how ticklish he is. He laughs and retaliates with fingertips that patter like raindrops up her spine.

Adrenaline surges, electricity tracing through her blood as she pulls him on top of her. It only makes her need him even more.

His breathing echoes loud in her ears, she can feel it: tiny puffs of air lapping just underneath her ear. She inhales deeply and crushes his lips with hers. He moans softly, grinding against the bed as she shifts slightly, wrapping her leg around his, pulling him down.

When they did this before it was still new and uncertain. Now she doesn't give a damn about caution. She lifts her hips to meet him, and she doesn't let him hesitate. She _wants_ him, and the pace she sets is fast and rough and raw. She doesn't want to think about anything but the flashing white-out of desire. She _can't_ think about anything else.

"Shepard," Kaidan repeats, a low growl. She answers with a touch, one hand dropping low to rest at his hip, rising and falling with him as he pushes in and out of her, pulling her teasingly close to the edge.

"Dammit, Kaidan," she hisses. He laughs again, and thrusts deeper, until she cries out with pleasure. Her nails dig sharp pathways across his back, she refuses to let go of him. Even after he pulls out she clings to him, as their breathing slows in tandem. Their bodies are slick with sweat and the scent of each other. They are _alive_, and the relief of it makes her cry. In his arms she releases all of her tension and fear. She traces her hand along the curve of his cheek and kisses him gently. He licks at her tears, and wipes away the ones he can't taste, catching them in the the palm of his hand.

"You know," she says softly, as he shifts onto his side, draping his arm around her. "This is what I _appreciate_ about you."

"I love you too," he whispers, so quietly she can't prove she heard it.


	5. Grounded

**Timeframe:** Extended and slightly altered "locker scene" (therefore somewhere in the midpoint between chapter 3 and chapter 1)

* * *

"So that's it?" Kaidan snaps. "We walk away? We let them win and damn us all?"

"Hell no!" Shepard retorts, slamming her fist against the locker behind her. The action rewards her with a satisfyingly loud metallic slamming noise, and a brief flash of pain. "I'll figure it out!" she yells, although whether for her own benefit or Kaidan's is anyone's guess.

For a conversation that started with "Are you alright?" he sure slipped into blame and accusation quickly enough. It seems like he's _always_ watching her, every move, waiting for her to slip up or take one of those 'shortcuts' he likes to lecture her about. Who is he to judge her?

And why does she care so much about what he thinks?

"If I can help, just let me know," he says softly, and she nods. She knows she will, but she has no idea how he or anyone else can help her. If she know what to ask for they'd be halfway to Ilos already.

"I'm glad you're here," she tells him honestly. "It was a frustrating trip _before_ we were grounded."

Frustrating. It seems to be the perfect word to describe everything: this trip, the mission, the Council's obstinance... and whatever-this-is with Kaidan.

"You look like you were about to go off on the Council," Kaidan remarks, and Shepard smiles, because if he thinks he's hiding the mischievous glint in his eye, he's wrong.

"They deserve it."

"Yeah. But sometimes it's good to take a step back." He offers a hand to pull her up, and she takes it, grateful for the support. "We've got time," he whispers, as he tucks her hair behind her ear, holds her _just_ too close, for too long, but there is no way in hell that she's going to tell him to stop.

Just as he leans in, close enough for her to notice the familiar scent of military-issue toothpaste on his breath, Joker's voice interrupts, unnaturally loud and accompanied by hissing bursts of comm static.

"Captain Anderson wants you to meet him at that club in the Wards, Commander," he announces.

"Were you spying on us?" Shepard asks, tapping her foot and watching Kaidan from the corner of her eye.

The lieutenant has immediately pulled away from her and is fiddling at the combination on his locker, presumably about to start readying his gear for the expedition. Being prepared for an attack _anywhere_, even or perhaps especially on the Citadel, has long since become habit for both of them.

"Absolutely not," Joker replies, a little too quickly. She rolls her eyes but thanks him for relaying the message; it is his job after all. The pilot is smart enough to sign off the radio with a quick snap, and Shepard knows he's smart enough not to continue watching... at least not right away.

"Kaidan, stop." She pulls at his hand, steering him away from the lockers, but he shrugs her off.

"We'll get there when we get there," she tells him. They're both of course assuming that he'll be joining her for the field trip: he always does. "Anderson can wait."

"This _can't_ change anything," Kaidan insists. Still won't look at her. She growls, slamming his locker shut.

"What are you afraid of?" she asks him. The question comes out harsher than she'd intended, but she's sick of playing games and being under lockdown has got her more-than-usually pissed off at the galaxy and most everybody in it.

Kaidan stares at her uncertainly for a moment before shaking his head.

"Damn it, Alenko! I can hardly report you without getting _myself_ court-martialed. Of course, that's if you really think the brass is going to waste their time worrying about our sex lives. You'll forgive me if I have my doubts on that."

Wait a minute. Did she really just say 'sex life'? In relation to Kaidan Alenko... no such thing exists, not even close. Where the hell did that come from?

She tightens her fingers around the grip of her pistol, ready to head out and meet up with Captain Anderson and maybe get spectacularly drunk. She'll leave Kaidan on the Normandy this once, clear her head. She glances at the lieutenant, ready to confirm that this is the best plan: just put it on ice, for now. Maybe a cold shower first, before she leaves...

It's then that she notices how still he is, how pale. Did he look that bad when he got here? How didn't she _notice_? He flinches, lifting a hand to his temple and drawing a shaky breath.

"Kaidan, what's wrong?"

An involuntary whimper escapes before he bites down on his lower lip, hard. "I'm okay, Commander," he whispers. "Just give me a minute."

Concern for him surges up in her stomach, an enraging sense of utter uselessness taking over as Kaidan stumbles and barely manages to catch himself. She grabs his arm and steadies him.

"You're not going anywhere, Alenko," she tells him firmly.

He shakes his head, wincing as he does so. "It's just a headache," he insists stubbornly. But Shepard knows for an L2 - for _Kaidan - _there is no such thing as 'just a headache.'

"Sit your ass down," she tells him, her voice quiet but firm. "That's an order."

"Okay," he says softly. No protest. Shepard chews on her lower lip and wonders how bad it must me. Kaidan sinks to the deck and nestles into the small nook created by the lockers, curling up into a tight ball and resting his head on his knees. This is the man she's watched lose a fist fight with a Krogan and keep going.

She paces, watching the steady rise and fall of his deep and concentrated breathing. She swipes at the interface of her omnitool, hoping a dose of medigel will help. And she finally drops down next to him, although the space is tight, barely big enough to fit them both.

She takes Kaidan's hand gently and reaches for her radio, trying and failing multiple times to reach Doctor Chakwas in the med bay before remembering that most of the crew has taken being grounded as an excuse for a half-assed kind of shore leave, with her blessing.

"I can get her back here if you need," Joker offers, when she starts looking for alternatives.

Everyone remaining on the ship holds the same Marine-issue battlefield first-aid knowledge as she does, of little help when the victim isn't actively bleeding.

"Don't worry," Kaidan tells her through gritted teeth, and she rolls her eyes. As if there's any chance of that. "Chakwas would just tell me find somewhere dark and quiet to ride it out."

Somewhere dark and quiet... that's a lot of places on the Normandy, but maybe it explains why he'd come down to this hidden alcove in the first place. He couldn't have been expecting to find her here.

"If you're sure," she murmurs, still massaging his fingers between her own.

"Pretty much an expert, yeah." The bitterness in his tone surprises her, although it shouldn't. She's angry on his behalf, because he's only suffering through this misery because someone crossed a wire in his brain when he was a kid. It makes her feel guilty for getting away with her own biotic capabilities with no side effects to speak of.

"Shepard, you should go," Kaidan tells her. "Don't keep Captain Anderson waiting."

She nods, but makes no move to let go of his hand. She _knows_ she shouldn't be here. She knows how hard she'd worked to keep her moments of weakness hidden from her commanding officers. But she can't leave him either. And he'd accused _her_ of muddying things.

She rubs the tense muscles of Kaidan's shoulder with her free hand, and he relaxes slightly. His skin is sticky with sweat and running even hotter than normal, and it drives her crazy, but even with him in this condition she finds herself _wanting_ him, cursing Joker for interrupting just as Mr. By-the-Book was about to let hormones and chemistry override the chain of command, for once. It's been too damned long since she's had a good lay, and even longer - much, much longer - since she's had anything like _this_: someone she _cares_ about, something that could be called love, maybe.

She lets her hand slide from Kaidan's shoulder to his back, and traces slow circles through the fabric of his jumpsuit, an instinctive motion, a memory from way back, something someone had done for her when she was sick as a child.

"That... feels good," he admits, and she smiles.

"Good," she replies. "Because I'm not planning to stop."


	6. Unsaid

**Timeframe:** Mass Effect 2 opening scene. One month after the Citadel fight/end of ME1 (and chapter 4). Normally I absolutely _hate_ just transcribing game scenes into fanfiction: I _always_ try to add something new, even if it's just emotional perspective. And I still tried to do that here, but honestly, there's not much you can _add_; it's almost sheer perfection as it stands already... it still had to be included though, because there is absolutely no way this story could be complete without it.

* * *

Drifting in stealth mode this far away from _anything_ is starting to get to them, boredom and close quarters and nowhere to go; reconnaissance with nothing to see. The warning light is almost a relief.

Shepard watches the board in CIC and listens to the status reports, not worried. Nobody can see the Normandy when it's running dark, and maybe this is what they've been out here looking for. She can't wait to get back to civilized space - if it can be called that. She's overdue for shore leave, and she wants one somewhere no one will recognize or bother her. Good friends, good drinks. And for once, she won't have to go hunting for someone to spend the nights with.

Except that the light on the boards changes from orange to red, and she hears the words "intercept trajectory" and Pressly's swearing. "That's impossible! The Geth can't -"

"It's not the Geth!" Joker calls out, and more than anything the _panic_ she hears in his voice sets her on edge. Her pilot does not panic. She has never seen his confidence shaken, not during an impossible drop, or a pickup under fire, not even against Sovereign.

Not the Geth. Who else _is _there? The Reapers?

No. They stopped that threat, locked the gate that keeps them out of this galaxy, they are _safe_.

"Don't be stupid, Shepard," she mutters under her breath, as alarms sound, piercing under her skull, in time with her rapid heartbeat. Nobody's safe out here. She knows it better than most. And colonies don't just _disappear_. Something is hunting them.

The Normandy may be the best ship in the fleet, but it's still just one ship, and it can break.

Red lights on the board turn into something _big_, through a viewport, she can see it swooping down, ready to swallow them. Bursts of plasma hit like rain. Kinetic barriers down. Weapons down. Main computer systems offline, emergency backup and life support stable - for now. Hull integrity compromised. She grabs at the radio clipped to her collar and starts barking orders.

The ship takes another hit, she can feel it shaking all around her. The hull rings with the echoes of the heavy weapon pings, she can smell smoke, ozone and fire.

"We are _not_ taking chances!" she shouts, and she hears her own voice screaming back at her over the loudspeakers mounted above her head, still nearly overwhelmed by the screeching klaxons and thunderous booms of every impact. "Evac _everybody_. Get to the escape pods. _Now_!" She suits up as she talks, pulls up her omnitool, tries to fix the worst of the damage, but what's the point?

"Shepard!" Kaidan's voice. Directly in her ear, a private channel.

He wrenches a fire extinguisher off the wall and battles his way to her. "Joker won't leave," he tells her, as they fight the blaze together, clearing a path for the rest of the crew.

The pods seem so different now: darker, smaller, harder to find. They are the only quiet part of the Normandy now, waiting to be launched into empty space, into the waiting arms of whoever's attacking, or to drift cold until... _Will the Alliance get here in time?_ Isn't that the question?

She lets the fire extinguisher drop to the deck, and breaks for the cockpit. No way she's letting her pilot go down with the ship. She is not going to let him play hero, or die a noble but pointless death when she can get him to safety; a slim chance is better than no chance at all. She refuses to lose anybody else, not after Virmire, and especially not on her own ship!

"I'm not leaving either," Kaidan insists, freezing her with just his voice.

She turns back, as the ship burns around them, seconds ticking by, time they don't have...

"Kaidan..."

He stares at her, their eyes meet through the darkening visors of their spacesuit helmets, he reaches for her, but she pushes him away. "We don't have time!" she demands. "I need you to get everybody else away."

_I need you..._

He finally nods, and herds the last stragglers into the pod. She waits just long enough to make sure he gets in and launches, and then she runs for the cockpit.

So Kaidan is safe, and she doesn't abandon Joker. She is _not_ making that choice again.

She knows Joker can't walk, so she takes him in her arms and hauls him to the last escape pod, barely hearing his protests. Around them, the Normandy disintegrates, lasers and fireballs ripping away solid bulkheads. There is nothing left to stand between them and open space. She can feel it licking at her, warring hot and cold beyond human comprehension.

She throws Joker into the tiny capsule and slaps the button, the hatch is sliding shut but she can still make it... her fingers slip, there is nothing to hold onto.

Joker screams her name but it sounds like Kaidan, words form on her lips but she can't speak them. She hears nothing but her own breathing, and the louder steady hiss of escaping air, a rip in her suit, she can see it, and feel it: one more thing she never noticed until too late.


	7. Horizon

**Chapter Notes:** I think one more chapter, after this. Whatever relationship develops in Mass Effect 3 (which I've just started playing) will most likely get its own story. This fic didn't turn out like I expected, but I'm happy I wrote it. It was mostly just a much-needed way for me to get the feel for writing in this setting with these characters.

**Timeframe:** Horizon (Mass Effect 2)

* * *

She doesn't know what she was expecting, seeing Kaidan again. Not this.

She thinks about the picture sitting on the desk in her cabin. It's static, unchanging, _boring_, really - the standard headshot they all have attached to their military files. But she looks beyond all that; sees the sparkle of laughter in his eyes as he teases her, that smile that lights up his face at the most unexpected times. She remembers the way his fingers trailed along her skin in the dark, leaving sharp jolts of static in their wake.

She sees none of that now. Commander Alenko - he's been promoted in her... absence - is cold and closed off. But she hears... _something_, in his voice. "Shepard?"

She nods, and reaches out for him. She can't help it. And he catches her by instinct, wraps his arms around her and holds her in a tight hug, and even through the armor he feels warm. His fingers are still rough and callused where he clings tight to the heavy grip of a pistol, but he traces them softly across her face, along the deep and not entirely natural scars that stubbornly refuse to heal.

She grabs his wrist and pulls his hand away. Those are new, they're not _her_, and she doesn't want him touching them.

"I..." he stumbles, falters, and she squirms under the intensity of his gaze as he studies her. Is this really all that's left for them now? Suspicion and hostility? "Shepard, I thought you were _dead_."

She swallows hard, reaching for backup even though she's ashamed to, she shouldn't need it, this is _Kaidan_.

"I was," she murmurs. It's the first time she's acknowledged it so directly. Not just very badly hurt, or in a coma, or hidden or gone. _I was dead_. Saying it makes the knowledge settle in the pit of her stomach, heavy and cold. She has never felt more alone than she does now, as she fails to justify her existence to the one person she thought would never leave her. She should have known better.

Kaidan won't meet her eyes. His touch is hesitant. And his narrowed eyes linger on Jacob, or more accurately, on the Cerberus insignia marking the other man's armor.

"I'm not working for them!" she insists, wondering why it should matter if she was. Nobody else seems to care. Nobody else thinks she's different now, but maybe they should. Maybe Kaidan's right, maybe there is something wrong with her. Maybe she's not even really human anymore, and everyone else is just too scared to say it. "Kaidan, I'm not a traitor!" she yells, practically shoving her armor in his face - the same N7 bloodstripe she earned on Akuze. What else does she have that can convince him she is the same woman he remembers? Of course, that's the problem, isn't it? He _remembers_ two years that she will never get back.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, though she has no idea what she's apologizing for. It's not like she died because she wanted to, and she certainly didn't ask Cerberus to rebuild her into some perfect soldier, all to throw away on a suicide gamble nobody else would even consider. It doesn't matter anyway, right? The galaxy has already moved on, Commander Shepard is dead. She's just a ghost, a _spectre_, still lingering where she isn't wanted. Haunting the living who don't need her anymore.

"You've changed," Kaidan tells her, but he's wrong. It's everything else that's different now, a tectonic shift built up of all the seconds that ticked by while she was still and silent.

"I could use you on my crew, Kaidan," she tells him, one last ditch effort, hiding all the things she'll never say behind professional commands, wondering if he'll still be able to hear the words for what they are. "It'll be just like old times."

"No," Kaidan responds. "It won't. Goodbye, Shepard."

She barely feels Garrus catch her as Kaidan walks away. She counts his retreating footsteps as he fades into the setting sun. But he stops, and says something, just loudly enough for his voice to carry over the gentle wind, "Be careful."

She smiles sadly, but her stomach begins to untangle. Because he didn't leave it at 'goodbye.' Some part of him couldn't.

She closes her eyes and concentrates enough to send a pulse of biotic energy out toward him, a last touch. And she stumbles backward as she feels his reciprocating push, so much stronger than hers, as she calls Joker down for the pickup.

She scrambles to her feet and tries to find him, but he's already long gone.


	8. Epilogue: Hard to Port

**Chapter Notes: **I know this isn't the last I'm writing of Kaidan and Shepard, I know I'm just getting started in Mass Effect writing, but I'm not quite sure yet how my muse wants to play things. No matter what... see you on the other side.

**Timeframe:** toward the end of Mass Effect 2, before the Omega 4 relay jump

* * *

Shepard clicks through the highlighted alerts forwarded to her private terminal - cleared through Cerberus filters all. It's rare that a personal message slips through among mission reports and secure bulletins. Makes sense, what with her being dead, and all.

But her heart speeds up against all her better judgement when she sees the subject line tagged "About Horizon" and an Alliance military encryption key hiding the sender. She knows who it has to be, and she knows it isn't a message she'll be able to read among the carefully controlled chaos of CIC. She slips away from the terminal and takes the elevator up a deck to her cabin. And she sits there, under the dimmed lights as the fish swim around behind her head - and what kind of ship has a _fish tank?_ She can't help but smile at the thought of what Kaidan would say about that. He'd given her grief about the luxury of a personal coffeepot on the original Normandy.

The burst of happiness she gets thinking about him is enough to overpower her anxieties long enough to open the communique.

She reads it over and over again, silently and aloud, struggling to find the answers in the emptiness.

"Do you even remember that night before Ilos?" she murmurs, brushing her fingers gently across the letters on the touch-screen as though that could bring him closer to her.

Of course she does, that night and every other moment they've ever shared. It all comes rushing back to her in a flash, scrambled out of order, one thing after another. She wonders if he remembers it all too, already knowing him better than to imagine he doesn't.

_"When things settle down a little... maybe."_

Shepard shakes her head. That's Kaidan alright, always leaving himself a way out. But leaving her a way in, too.

They're better together, and he knows it too. It makes it easier to jump through that relay at the end of everything, knowing he's waiting for her on the other side.


End file.
